Fridays are rough on P, albeit self-inflicted. He is at work at an ungodly hour, and comes home to a very well rested SS. If we are lucky we get 5 minutes together, and off I go. That leaves a shattered P and a hyper SS to fend for themselves. But P is adamant about no more than three days at school for SS, and I admire that he is willing to sacrifice his beauty sleep in order to do what is best for his child.
I do not have the usual hang ups about Friday the 13th, black cats and such. I was born on the 13th day of the month, so that helps. But this Friday the 13th, little Chinese girls were at their wildest, and mine was among them. When P answered the phone, barely four hours into his nine hour stint with SS, he sounded very tired. While I'm asking P to speak up I can hear SS in the background going full throttle at something. I felt really bad for the guy, and asked him if he had some wine. Dude was way ahead of me, already on his second glass. A very well deserved second glass.
Since SS was behaving like she was on meth I expected her to crash and burn, affording her weary father some rest. Silly woman who dares to dream such folly. SS was wide awake until 11:00 p.m. I did my best when I arrived home at 9:30 p.m. to steer her away from her Baba, but she was on a I-am-joined-at-the-hip-with-my-Baba-really-don't-care-if-he-is-about-to-drop mood. P was out by 10:30, holding SS in his arms, and that is where she was at 11:00 p.m. when sleep finally claimed her.
SS's parting shot to me that day "Bye Mama, don't get lost." WTF?